No News is Good News
by Failure Turtle
Summary: Vince decides that the WWE needs an in-house newspaper. Someone decides to sneak in their own anonymous gossip column under the nose of the Editor in Chief, John Cena. Includes Jeff, Edge, Punk, Randy, Mickie etc.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: As if I needed to start another story…**

**Oh well.**

"Mr. McMahon, we already have WWE Magazine. Why do we need this WWE Newspaper thing you're coming up with?" Mickie asked, cocking her head to the side in awe at Vince McMahon's request.

"Oh, no, this isn't going out to the fans. This is for our own personal enjoyment. Besides, I don't want Congress thinking that the only people I employ are brainless meat heats," Vince said, chipper with his idea of running an in house newspaper.

"Hey…" Colin Delaney sighed from somewhere in the back row of the conference hall.

Vince did go all out on this endeavor. He rented out an actual conference hall and called the entire WWE roster for the meeting. He thought that this was a brilliant idea and would teach his employees valuable lessons about the journalism business, even though they had nothing to do with it.

"Sorry, Colin," Vince apologized quickly. "Anyways, back to business. You'll have to vote for an Editor in Chief for this to be a proper newspaper production. Then, he or she can decide who writes what."

"I'll do it!" John Cena volunteered, being the ass kisser that he was when it came to Vince McMahon. His offer was greeted by moans and groans from his fellow co-workers.

"Now, John, I appreciate the offer, but I want this to be a proper election. Even if you don't have someone to run against, we still need to vote. Would anyone like to run against Mr. Cena, here?" Vince asked, addressing his wrestling empire.

The Miz went to stand up, but John Morrison quickly tugged on his shirt and pulled him back down. "Sit down, you nutcase," he muttered to his tag team partner.

"Okay, everyone grab a piece of paper," Vince announced. He reached under his podium and took out a stack of small pieces of blank paper. He handed them to the Diva that was sitting closest to him, and that so happened to be Kelly Kelly. "Kels, be a doll and hand one out to everyone." Kelly Kelly obliged. "Okay, so just write John's name down on the paper so we can officially vote him Editor in Chief for the new WWE Newspaper. I'll need a volunteer to tally the votes…"

Of course, John volunteered to count them. "Cena can't count them. The only number he can count up to is five. I'll count them," Edge said, standing up and bobbling his head.

"Why, thank you, Edge!" Vince said appreciatively. "Everybody, cast your votes and hand them to Edge, please."

Ten minutes later, Edge was standing at the podium with the stack of papers. Some were crumpled, some were folded, and some had no writing on them at all. Edge picked up the first piece and read it off. "One vote for John…another for Cena…'_Ass kisser_?' Definitely a vote for Cena…'_God_?' I don't want to be Editor in Chief…_'Man of two holds_'…Seriously, when did John get all of these new nicknames? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Edge went through almost half the stack and decided that John would be Editor in Chief, mainly because he didn't feel like reading anymore.

"Congratulations, Mr. Cena!" Vince said jubilantly. John pranced up to the stage, clearly over satisfied with the fact that he had just won a vote for which he was the only nominee. "I'll leave you to hand out the assignments."

John cleared his throat and addressed his journalism team. "I am very honored to be your Editor in Chief. In the past two minutes that I have held this position, I have thought long and hard about who will report about what." John paused and looked around the room before handing out the assignments. "Randy, I want you to be the fashion reporter."

The assignment that John had just handed out was not well received by his colleagues. Most of them fell into fits of hysterical laughter. John ignored them and carried on.

"Punk, I want you to be the drug reporter."

"What? I don't even do drugs. I can't even spell narcotics!" Punk argued back, smacking his forehead and nearly tossing his Chicago Cubs hat at John.

"Get a dictionary. Jeff, you can be the hair columnist."

"Whatever," Jeff shrugged. He had no interest in writing for this newspaper, and he had even less interest in being under Cena's command.

"Edge…what can we have you do?" John wondered. He knew that Edge was a creative soul and would be a valuable key to this newspaper, no matter how sick and twisted his ways were.

"I'll draw the comics," Edge suggested in a tone that would easily be construed as joking, but he was dead serious.

"Oh…kay…" John stammered, in shock at what Edge had just asked to do. "I guess everyone else can just write whatever they want each month. Now, I want all articles in my hand in a week."

The rest of the WWE roster collectively rolled their eyes and groaned. They could already tell that working with John as their boss would be a living hell.

Little did they know, someone was going to take comic relief a little too far…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Psh, I don't even know who it's going to be yet. Oh wait…yeah, I do. Hehehe.**

**Anyone know how to get a song out of your head? "I Ran" has been stuck in my head for over a week. Last time something like this happened, it was senior year and "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Oh well, at least they're good songs.**

"Come on!" John hollered to Curt Hawkins and Zack Ryder. They didn't want to have anything to do with contributing anything positive to the paper, so they volunteered to distribute the paper. "It's hot of the press and I want everyone to read the first issue."

"Settle down with these stacks of papers, Cena. You don't want to over exert yourself and tear your pectoral muscle again," Zack teased Cena.

"Yeah, what I wouldn't give…" Curt sighed under his breath so John wouldn't hear.

"Whatever, you cronies. Just get these damn papers out."

* * *

"Mickie!" Maria squealed. She was doubled over with fits of laughter. "Did you read Jeff's article?"

"No, not yet. He writes about hair, right?" Mickie asked, being the forgetful girl that she was.

"Yeah…Just read it. It's on page six."

"Page six? Alright…" Mickie sighed, turning to the page that Maria had instructed her to.

_Cool Hair Stuff  
By: Jeff Hardy_

_Long, multi-colored hair is in._

_Jeff Hardy, out._

"What the hell is this, Maria?" Mickie giggled.

"Apparently, Jeff thinks he's Ryan Seacrest. This is seriously the funniest thing ever. I can't believe John even let him publish that."

"Duh, Maria. John can't read."

* * *

_The Chronic Chronicles  
By: CM Punk_

_Randy Orton was caught littering in the hallway. Relating to drug use, he was caught littering and?_

_Littering and?_

_Littering and?_

_Smoking the reefer._

_No one knows if Randy Orton will be fined one thousand dollars as stated in the Drug and Wellness Policy. If he doesn't, Triple H will certainly be ravaging for another title shot._

_Well, more than he already does, at least._

_And remember, punks don't smoke the rock._

* * *

"I am going to _kill_ Edge," John Cena grumbled as he looked through the published first issue of the magazine.

How this had escaped his grasp, John didn't know. If he had seen this, Edge's comic surely wouldn't have made it into the final issue.

Sprawled across page four was a badly drawn stick figure labeled "John Cena," and the figure was unable to wrestle its way out of a wet paper bag. The paper bag was being doused by The Rated R Superstar himself.

* * *

_Why Pants are Unnecessary  
By: Randy Orton_

_Pants are unnecessary._

_Well, that is not completely true._

_They are unnecessary if you are me, but you're not, so I better see everyone at work wearing pants. They are an essential key to every the wardrobe of every person in the world who is not named Randall Keith Orton._

_I do not want to see the cottage cheese thighs of you people. I'd like to keep my eyes, thanks._

_Therefore, my pants are useless. Your pants are about as useless as tires on a car._

_That, you unattractive fools, is your fashion tip of the week._

* * *

_That Crime Scene, Crime Scene, Yeah, Yeah  
By: Big Shad of Cryme Tyme_

_So, it seems as if that dude, Batista, was seen with some little homies backstage at SmackDown. The homies were little dudes, man. They were fresh out of the cradle, if you know what I'm saying. I don't want to know what Batista was doing with them kids, but whatever it was…JTG and I will __**not**__ be auctioning off merchandise from that encounter._

_Santino Marella was seen being chased down the hallways by security. The crime? Butchering the English language. That's not cool, dude. Santino is my homie, and any homie of mine is a cool dude, no matter what language they speak. Cryme Tyme does not discriminate against language of origin. We discriminate against origin of items to sell._

_On a final note, it seems as if the big guy was almost in trouble for smacking a homie in the head with his power walk. That's intense._

_Remember, pilfering and selling on national television is not a crime!_

* * *

_The Shit List: Because I'm that Damn Good  
By: The Game, Triple H_

_You kids know that I wanted nothing to do with this bullshit paper. So, first on the shit list?_

_John Cena, of course._

_He was all high and mighty head running this thing. Good for him. Another golden star to add to his never ending chart of golden stars._

_But no, Cena can't be alone on this list._

_Vince McMahon, welcome to the club._

_It was his idea to do this, and now I have to waste my time writing this thing every week._

_What are you going to do, Vince? Fire me?_

_Nice try._

* * *

"Oh. Hell. No," John stammered as he reached the last page of his first published issue.

_The Real Sack (Because the WWE Magazine Version Sucked)  
By: Anonymous_

_Do you want to know the real reason that Randy doesn't wear pants? He likes to show off his stuffed trunks._

_Kane was seen eating fried chicken. Fried, not grilled. Isn't that against his religion?_

_The real reason The Undertaker "retired?" He was too ashamed to be in the same business as John Cena and Eve Torres._

_Did you know that Eve rigged the Diva Search competition? Her extended family called in nonstop. That's three hundred people in twenty different countries. Yeah, her mom got around._

_THIS JUST IN! KELLY KELLY WAS SEEN WEARING MORE THAN TWO SQUARE INCHES OF CLOTHING! The world stopped turning for that brief moment._

_Until next week, the sack hits the sack._

_Hey, Cena. Guess who?_

"I AM GOING TO KILL EDGE!"


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell is _this_, Edge?" John asked, holding up last week's anonymous gossip column in front of the face of the Rated R Superstar.

"It's an anonymous gossip column?" Edge guessed as a joke. Yes, he knew what it was. He knew that John knew. He just liked messing with the guy.

"_Obviously_. Why did you write it?" John asked.

"Whoa, don't get your thong pulled farther up your ass than it already is," Edge said, trying to calm John down. "I didn't write that. I volunteered to do the comics for a reason. Besides, even if I did write that…No, I don't want to be associated with that garbage writing. If I wrote something like that making fun of people, it would be _much_ better. Haven't you read my autobiography, _Adam Copeland on Edge_?"

"First of all, no, I haven't read that."

"What kind of rock have you been living under?"

"I'm going to ignore that comment. Second of all, okay, I believe you. And third of all, how did you sneak that comic in? That wasn't the one you handed into me for last week's deadline," John asked, almost scolding Edge for being…well, Edge.

"Psh, I'm just good like that. It was easy."

"How was it easy?"

"Well, it's easy being sleazy. Just because you suck doesn't mean we all do," Edge shrugged before handing John the new comic for the issue that was coming out tomorrow. It was a parody of _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_.

"This doesn't seem so bad," John said to himself as he looked at the comic.

* * *

John had Zack and Curt up at the break of dawn to place stacks of newspapers out everywhere in the backstage area of the arena. John promised himself that this issue would be more professional than last week's.

But when was John ever right about anything?

* * *

_The Palace of Wisdom  
By: The Shaman of Sexy, John Morrison_

_I was too busy eating sushi with Mr. Fuji at the Palace of Wisdom last week to be bothered with writing this. So, here it is Morrison Followers, my advice column. I'll pick one question a week and answer it, using my guru greatness._

_**Dear the Great Shaman of Sexy,**_

_**I smell bad and can't spell very well. How can I still get a date for this weekend?**_

_**SmackDown Spoiler**_

_Well, Festus (yes, I know this is you), you can do a number of things. One, you can follow the great power of my abs. I don't suggest that. I don't think you can handle the power of these bad boys. Two, you can lose the lazy eye. Three, you can get a bell and have your girl ring it in the bedroom._

_Ladies, you don't need a bell to get John Morrison going. I am a deity all in my own._

_That, Festus, is all the time I have for you this week._

_Remember, kids, in life, there are winners (like me), and there are losers (like you, Festus). Join me next week as I once again give you insight into…_

_The Palace of Wisdom_

* * *

_Crank This, Military Man  
By: Santino Marella_

_Yes, I have decided to talk about the music that is on the boom boxes in the WWE. And this is the only thing I have to say about it._

_It is more terrible than JR and King talking about the puppies and Bob Holly's soft core. If I hear "YANK THAT" one more time, I am going to smack someone with an Italian sausage. My Maria never listened to this garbage that you like to call the musics when we were together._

_Maybe I need to bring in a nice Italian symphony that doesn't sound like the doggies running to the mail delivery guy._

* * *

_Hair  
By: Jeff Hardy_

_Long hair still in._

_Jeff Hardy, still out._

* * *

"I WARNED HIM LAST WEEK!" John screamed as he viewed Edge's newest comic. The one that ended up in print was not in fact the one that Edge had handed him.

This time it was John drawn in an electric chair with Edge flipping the switch.

* * *

_The Chronic Chronicles  
By: CM Punk_

_I still don't do drugs. Neither should you. Do you hear that, Randy Orton? You need drugs just about as much as Kelly Kelly needs to take her clothes off._

_Orton wasn't fined the one thousand dollars as expected._

_In related news, more Superstars have been getting strange substances passed around to them. Being straight-edge, I have no idea what these substances are._

_Until next week, remember that punks don't smoke the rock._

* * *

_Mr. Kennedy, I Hate You  
By: The Legend Killer, Soon to be "The Kennedy Killer"_

_Kennedy, I saw you running around last week with no pants on. Did you not read my exposé on why pants are an essential part of the wardrobe unless you are me? Last time I checked, you were not me, but a loser from Wisconsin._

_What happened to your sweatpants that went along with that snazzy vest of yours? Did you leave them at your boyfriend's house?_

* * *

_The Personals_

_MSM. 30. Bwn hair. Blu eyes. 6'1" Muscular build.3xWWEC. L4 20-45. 5'7"-6'1"._

* * *

_The Real Sack  
By: Anonymous_

_THIS JUST IN! JOHN CENA WEARS THONGS AND IS NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT! He particularly likes to leave them at Batista's house where they dance in them together. A trusted inside source has pictures._

_Rumor has it that John Morrison has ab implants. Rumor has it that the said rumor is true._

_I was dining at a fine eating establishment when I saw Beth Phoenix enter the men's restroom. I guess she really does have a penis, as suspected._

_Still haven't figured it out yet, Cena? Sucks to be you._


	4. Chapter 4

An angry and enraged John Cena called a meeting with his entire newspaper staff, which was pretty much the entire WWE. Some were more involved than others.

"As I'm sure most of you are aware, we have been experiencing some technical difficulties with the newspaper," John explained, eliciting groans from almost every one of his crew members.

"Cena, it's your place to blame technical difficulties when you are the true glitch in the system," Jeff Hardy snapped back from somewhere in the middle of the room.

"Oh, you're one to talk, Jeff. Your column hasn't been more than two lines these past two issues!"

"Yeah, but you still published them."

"That's besides the point. Look, who is this anonymous gossip columnist? Curt and Zack, do you guys know? You two are the last people to see the issues before they are distributed out to the Superstars," Cena accused the two Edgeheads.

"Hey, don't accuse my boys, freak," Edge said, standing up and walking over to Zack and Curt, squeezing his way in between them and draping his arms around their shoulders. He bobbled his head while he smacked his gum, giving John a devilish look. "Just because you're too dumb to figure out who's sabotaging your pride and joy doesn't mean you need to go out and accuse the henchmen of your greatest enemy of all time."

"It's obvious that it's you, Edge," Cena sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Prove it," Edge challenged.

John raised his eyebrows and silently dropped the subject. As he looked away, he didn't notice Edge slip two crisp five dollar bills into the hands of Zack Ryder and Curt Hawkins.

* * *

_The Shit List: Because I'm that Damn Good  
By: The Game, Triple H_

_Next up on ol' Tripsy's shit list is none other than the Rated R Superstar himself, Edge._

_Come on, man. We all know that this gossip girl shit is being done by you. Your cronies are sneaking in the fake article just like they're sneaking in those damn funny comics you come up with. Keep the comics. Ditch the article._

_

* * *

_

The Chronic Chronicles  
By: CM Punk

_There are no significant drug stories to report this week._

_I'm still clean, and you should be, too. Do you want to end up like William Regal? I don't think so._

_Oh, and little DiBiase? Get arrested for any DUIs lately? Ha._

_Maybe you should all stop making fun of my non-partying ways and join me in my straight-edge cult._

_Is that what you want to hear, John? That we're all forming some rebellious cult against you, dedicated to the demise of this paper? If so, you're more pathetic than I thought you were._

_Remember, kids, punks don't smoke the rock._

_

* * *

_

Pat Your Weave  
By: That Rainbow Haired Guy Who Jumps Off Stuff

_Long hair in. Preferably with random shades of green and purple added._

_Jeff Hardy, out. New name seen above._

_LOOK JOHN! IT'S MORE THAN TWO LINES!_

_Asshole._

* * *

John grumbled to himself as he scanned over his third published newspaper. He didn't even bother with editing as thoroughly as he usually would have; he knew that everyone would undermine his authority and just say what they wanted anyways. And even if John would take it out, they would find some way to get it back in.

John rolled his eyes as his eyes crossed paths with Edge's comic. This week's rousing pictorial was shown in a club. A profound stick figure image of John Cena was trying to get the club's DJ to play one of his songs. The DJ took John's CD and bashed him in the head with it.

* * *

_That Crime Scene, Crime Scene, Yeah, Yeah  
By: JTG_

_YO YO YO! What's really hood?_

_The only crime around these parts is that dude that's making fun of everyone. If someone dares make fun of me or Big Shad, we'll get our homies to bust a cap in someone's ass._

_And we'd make a killing off of that court case, trust me._

_

* * *

_

The Importance of Short Hair  
By: Randy Orton

_I've been getting a lot of heat about my choice of hairstyles over the past few months._

_GET OVER IT!_

_You're all just jealous that you cannot pull off every style of hair that I can._

_Besides, I like short hair. Sweat doesn't get caught in it, and then I can still smell better than you._

_

* * *

_

The Palace of Wisdom  
By: The Shaman of Sexy, John Morrison

_**Dear John Morrison, the Shaman of Sexy,**_

_**I want to grow long, illustrious hair like yours, but I can't seem to do it. How can I achieve such god like hair status?**_

_Funaki, is that you? Well, let me tell you that you can't grow hair like mine. My hair is certified by the Palace of Wisdom, and you're no Mr. Fuji._

_Remember, in life, there are winners, and there are losers._

_

* * *

_

The Real Sack  
By: Anonymous

_Hey, John, did you like that personals ad in last week's issue? I put that in there. It said that you were seeking Shawn Michaels. Hehehe it made me happy. Oh, by the way, did he call?_

_What's with JTG thinking he can "bust a cap?" What does that even mean? Is that some sort of street lingo for opening a can?_

_And no, John, don't go assuming that I'm Stone Cold Steve Austin now. He's not that smart. He wouldn't know how to use apostrophes, just like you don't know how to edit your own damn newspaper articles._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Maybe I'm still delirious from the ten hours of sleep I got after being awake for about…50 hours, but I decided to update this anyways. I must be on something. I probably lost a lot of readers, too, but maybe I'll gain some new ones. Who knows.**

"I _can_ edit newspaper articles just fine," John whined to Candice Michelle.

"Yes, you sure can, John," Candice cooed, rubbing John's back.

"Candice, don't try making me feel better. If I can edit as well as you say I can, then how come _this_ got in here?" John asked, smacking the open newspaper on the table.

Candice peered over John's shoulder and gazed at the colorful comic that was printed on the page. The illustrated Edge had tied John to an oversized model of the WWE Championship belt with a Rated-R Superstar logo and was maniacally spinning him around on it.

* * *

_The Shit List: Because I'm that Damn Good  
By: Triple Fucking H_

_You know what, Batista? __**You**__ are on this week's shit list. Why? Because you came onto __**my**__ show and ruined it. And even though I have a new show to dominate, you're sucking on the live show. I hope you fall off the apron again. I must say, I thought that was pretty funny. Now, just put down your car magazines and turn on a wrestling DVD. It will do you some good._

_

* * *

_

The Chronic Chronicles  
By: CM Punk

_There haven't been any real drug reports this week. Maybe all these people got released for steroids. Maybe not. We all know that Shannon Moore wasn't released because of that. How do I know? Well, because he's tiny. Oh, and he could actually __**wrestle**__, and we all know that's something that the WWE is straying away from._

_In related Superstars-that-can't-wrestle news, newcomer Brie Bella has been spotted injecting collagen into her clown lips, making her look even more like a transvestite than she already does. No wonder she fits in so well on SmackDown. With Michelle McCool's Adam's apple and Maryse's man voice, she has other transvestite Divas to hang out with._

_I suppose that she was still injecting __**something**__, so I guess that could be a drug related issue._

_Ladies, all I have to say is that I'm glad that I'm on RAW now. You can't try to kick my ass, not that you could anyways._

_Well, I hope that the drug reports stay this clean from now on, no pun intended. Straight-edge is the way to be!_

_Remember, kids, punks don't smoke the rock._

_

* * *

_

I'm Not a Fucking Salon Worker  
By: That Hardy Guy

_I think Khali has been reading this. All he needs is some more color, and his hair is perfect._

_Don't cry, Cena. It's two lines. That's my maximum._

_

* * *

_

That Crime Scene, Crime Scene, Yeah, Yeah  
By: JTGizzle

_Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo! What's really hood?_

_Well, I don't want to turn in myself and my good friend, Shad Gaspard, but there's only one crime report this week, and we committed it._

_See, we stole, I mean __**borrowed**__, the World Tag Team Championship belts from them silly white boys, Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase. Why? Because Big Dick Johnson called us over from SmackDown. He desired it. We acquired it. Besides, I watched the footage from RAW this week. Those belts looked better on us, anyways._

_No, we __**borrowed**__ it. __**Borrowed**__._

_

* * *

_

Do I Look Like Christian Siriano to You?  
By: Randy Orton

_I can't believe this. I get in a motorcycle accident, yet I'm still required to write this. How about you watch Project Runway and hire that fierce guy that worked with the Divas. That will make my job a lot easier, you know._

_And __**I **__don't watch Project Runway. My wife does. I swear. Although, I must say, a lot of those clothes are rather chic, if I do say so myself. If they used male models, I'd so be in._

_

* * *

_

The Palace of Wisdom  
By: The Shaman of Sexy. The Tuesday Night Delight. John Morrison.

_**Dear Mighty Shaman,**_

_**I dream about your abs. So does my girlfriend. How do I get rock hard abs like you? She's been calling out your name in her sleep, and it's scaring me.**_

_Yes, Evan Bourne, I __**am**__ sleeping with your girlfriend. Stop doing Shooting Star Presses and work out, son. I can send Miz to be your personal trainer, if you'd like._

_Wait, I forgot. Miz doesn't __**serve**__ losers like you. Maybe you're better off with Festus. Just make sure that you bring a ring bell with you._

_Remember that in life, there are winners, and there are losers._

_And you, Evan Bourne, are a loser._

_

* * *

_

The Real Sack  
By: For the millionth time, I'm not telling you. That's why I'm _**Anonymous**_

_It's no secret that I enjoy the art of trash talking. Yes, it's an art form. It's the most glorious thing I can think of. Nothing pleasures me more than a good trash talking session._

_What trash talking do you get to hear this week? You know what, you don't __**deserve**__ to hear me trash talk this week. All I do is work for you people, and I've become the most read and anticipated weekly column of this newspaper. But does your editor appreciate me? No, he does not. This newspaper wouldn't be half as successful as it is now if it wasn't for me. I don't like to toot my own horn or anything, but…Wait. I do like to toot my own horn. The sound makes me happy._

_Rest easy tonight, Cena. I'm too lazy to glorify your polluted cesspool of a newspaper project this time. But maybe you should watch your back. I'm using my psychic powers, and I'm predicting something terrible in your future._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I feel bad neglecting this, but, well...When you don't get the response you used to on a story...I tend to put stuff on the back burner when that happens. So yeah, that's what happened to this one.**

John Cena had an epiphany.

Edge had said many, many times that he was not the anonymous Sack. Sure, he didn't quite believe the sick bastard, but there was no way that Edge would deny these claims if they were in fact true statements.

So, John Cena thought about it. And he thought about it. And then he thought about it some more.

What other man on the entire WWE roster enjoyed trash talking as much as Edge? What other person was so devious and cunning, both qualities that the Sack possessed? Who else liked to bring others down? Who else claimed to have psychic powers?

It was simple, really.

The Sack wasn't here to save the newspaper, that was for sure.

And Chris Jericho was no longer there to save the WWE.

It didn't take an idiot to put two and two together.

Chris Jericho was the Sack.

* * *

_The Chronic Chronicles  
By: CM Punk_

_I have a bone to pick with some of you. So what if I'm attempting to celebrate my newly won World Tag Team Championship? It's not like I'm going out partying. Yes, I was drinking...Pepsi._

_And you know what? I am perfectly aware that caffeine is considered a drug. But it's not like it fucks you up like alcohol or weed or something. It just wakes your ass up. Actually, it keeps me pretty calm. If I don't have it, I'll fall asleep at a Rancid concert.  
__  
So you guys, especially Randy Orton, should get off my case about me drinking soda. It's not a bad drug. I don't even really consider it a drug. Just because you jerk offs are jealous because I'm getting pushed and you're not..._

_And Mr. McMahon, if you're reading this, I appreciate every single thing you've done for me in my career._

_If I get any more heat for this from the guys about sucking up, I'm going to borrow a line from JTG and bust a fucking cap.  
__  
Remember, kids, punks don't smoke the rock (or drink the alchy)._

* * *

_I Like Cheese  
By: JEFFRO_

_In honor of Halloween, I suggest that we all color our hair random colors and paint our faces orange._

_It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!_

_And just so you're aware, everyday is Halloween for me. So suck on that, blondies._

* * *

"Chris, I know you're the Sack," John said as Chris handed in his first article for the paper.

Chris snorted. "Honestly, John, do you think I'd waste my time writing for your pathetic paper? You have issues."

"But you just handed in an article."

"That's what _you_ think," Chris said, rolling his eyes.

John skimmed over Jericho's article. "Chris, there is no way I'm publishing this in next week's paper."

"Why on earth not? Chris Jericho is the greatest journalist in the world!"

"This is an article about cat litter!" John yelled, slamming the paper on his desk. "This is the WWE, not PetSmart!"

"Are you insulting my creative genius?" Jericho gasped, clutching a hand over his heart. "I am hurt, John."

"Two minutes ago, you said that you'd never write for this paper."

"Yeah, but that was after I snuck in an article last week. I suggest you edit a bit more. Good day to you, sir."

John let out a disgruntled sigh as Jericho left. First, he saw Edge's latest artistic creation. It was his special Halloween edition, or at least that's what the title said. John was dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West. He was tied to a stake that was on fire. Edge, Zack Ryder, and Curt Hawkins were all dressed up in their Rated-R gear, dancing around the flames.

And Jericho's article was on the next page.

* * *

_The Church of Hot Jericho  
By: The King of the World, The Man who Will Save Us, The Sexy Beast, The Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah, Y2J, The First Ever Undisputed Champion, The Keeper of the Lion's Den, Chris Jericho_

_Chris Jericho has arrived, children. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid._

_This paper will never...ever...everrrr...EVER...EVERRRR...EVAAAAAAAAAAAAAR be the same...AGAYN._

* * *

_The Palace of Wisdom  
By: The Shaman of Sexy, John Morrison_

_**Dear Oh Mighty Shaman of Sexy,**_

_**I am jealous of my younger brother. He gets all the girls. I need help!**_

_Carlito? I knew you'd be begging for my aid soon enough. As for your brother, there is nothing to be jealous of. He looks like...Well...He looks like if Chavo Guerrero lost about six inches in height and gained fifty-three pounds and was sixty years younger._

_Yeah, I went there._

_Be jealous._

_I'm Back, Bitches  
By: RKO MOTHER *******_

_Okay, so you want fashion advice? I'll give you fashion advice..._

_Santino, pluck your damn unibrow!_

_Jeff, stop painting your face._

_Cena, wear actual wrestling boots._

_Umaga, **get **actual footwear._

_Cody, get rid of that disgusting chest hair._

_Ted, stop getting haircuts like me._

_Jericho, shave your nasty goatee._

_Kelly, wear clothes._

_See? Was it really that hard?_

_I'm retiring early._

_The Real Sack  
By: Anonymous_

_You know who's been getting on my nerves lately, besides our prestigious editor?_

_Mother. Banging. Undertaker._

_Stop wasting our time by taking seventy-five thousand years to enter the ring._

_Punk, you're a closet druggie. I saw you shooting up that heroin last night. Let me guess, you're Straight-Edge for Halloween._

_This is getting old. I'm going to tell you who I am..._

_Now?_

_No, not yet._

_Wait for it..._

_It's almost time!_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: YOU HAVE ALL FAILED ME! No one got it! Ahhhhh.**

"Edge, I need to talk to you."

"What else is new? Look, I'm not giving you fashion advice. That's what Randy's column is for. So, I really don't see the point of me having to talk to you," Edge said, continuing to walk past John Cena.

"I'm willing to pay you for your services."

Edge stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait a minute," he said, turning around and walking up to John. "_You_ are willing to pay _me_ to help you?"

"That's right."

"I knew this day would come!" Edge cheered. "This is like…insane! This is like Batman paying the Joker! This is like…like…awesome! So, what's up?"

"I need you to use all of your resources to find out who the hell the Sack is," John said.

Edge shook his head. "Not happening, tough guy."

"And why not? I'm going to _pay_ you."

"This is the one thing in your life that causes you agony, and I intend to fully cash in on it. No pun intended, of course," Edge smiled. He blew a large gum bubble and left John to be by himself.

* * *

_The Chronic Chronicles  
By: CM Punk_

_Okay, so I've been getting some weird emails lately. Ever since that song "Don't Trust Me" by 3OH!3 came out…_

_I guess there's a line about a girl with the straight edge x's on her hands, and she washes them off so she can go drink with bands or something. Like, for the record, I don't do that, so it would be great if you would stop harassing me about it. I go to shows but I don't drink._

_It's possible, you know._

_But here I am, just CM Punk trying to make the impossible possible._

_Remember, kids, punks don't smoke the rock._

_

* * *

_

The comic this week wasn't as anti-Cena as it usually was. Well, it _was_, but there was no amazing drawing of Edge somehow torturing John Cena. Instead, it was a comical interpretation of Cena's latest "You Can't See Me" shirt.

"He's losing it," Cena grinned as he saw Edge's lackluster illustration.

* * *

_Legacy  
By: The guy with the tats_

_I quit._

* * *

_The Palace of Wisdom  
By: The Shaman of Sexy, John Morrison_

_**Dear Tuesday Night Delight,**_

_**Girls are telling me that my chest hair is gross. Do you agree?**_

_Cody, I knew you would be coming to me for advice sooner or later. Yes, I agree. No man should __**ever**__ cover their temple with body hair. It's gross. Do you think millions of women around the world would want to lick my jewel encrusted abs if they were covered with nasty body hair?_

_I don't._

_Wash that dirt off of yourself. But that still won't help you get the World Tag Team Championship back._

* * *

"Three articles? Three freaking articles? This paper is falling apart!" John whined as he looked over the week's issue. He looked up at the man sitting across from him. "Chris, where's your article?"

Chris was reading his own copy of the paper. "John, you don't know how to count."

"Okay, fine. _Two_ articles because Randy's doesn't count."

"No, your mathematical skills still fail."

"How so?"

"_Four_. You forgot about the Sack!"

John's head snapped in Chris's direction. "Really, Chris? Why are you so keen on the Sack? It's _you_ isn't it? That's why you don't have an article this week! It was because you were too busy working on the Sack article!"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you took a look at the article…"

* * *

_The Real Sack  
By: Anonymous_

_No evil rants this week. I'm tired of all the false accusations. I want credit for my work, damnit!_

_When everyone else quits this paper and I rule all, __**then**__ you shall know who I am._

_And by the looks of it, it's almost time._


End file.
